


Of Things Lost and Things Found

by fangirl_squee



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:21:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the kinkmeme prompt: Cosette and Grantaire have a bro/sis relationship as children/preteens; they reunite at a later age, making their boyfriends/others jealous/confused. NON-BLOOD RELATED FAMILY REUNIONS. Les Amis are just amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Were Children Together

**Author's Note:**

> full prompt can be found here: http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/11667.html?thread=2396563#t2396563

Cosette isn't allowed outside without her papa. It's one of the first things he ever made her promise him after they found each other. However, he never said anything about standing in the doorway to _look_ outside, so Cosette feels free to stand in the doorway to their back garden, soaking up the warmth of the summer sun.  


There's someone else in the garden today. Her papa sometimes hires people for odd jobs around their house, but usually they’re older. This boy, pulling at weeds underneath the old oak tree, cannot be more than a few years older than her. His bony shoulders pull at his shirt when he tugs at a stubborn weed.  


"You’re staring."  


Cosette jumps a little. She hadn't known the boy had noticed her. "I was not."  


He turns to look at her. "Yes, you were. You still are. Haven't you ever seen anyone in a garden before?"  


"I was not _staring_ , I was just _looking_ , there is a difference."  


The boy smiles at her. "Oh really now, mademoiselle?"  


Cosette stands up straighter, raising her chin. "Really, monsieur!"  


"Remy." Cosette's confusion must show on her face, because he adds, "My name is Remy, not ‘Monsieur’. I don't think I'm quite refined enough to be one of those, do you?" His cheek is smudged with dirt and it's all over his hands and his ragged clothing. His hair is wild, knotted by the wind and falling into his eyes.  


"My papa says that a man can come in any guise, it is his behaviour that makes him a gentleman."  


Remy laughs. "Your father is a strange man."  


"He is not -"  


Remy holds up dirt-caked hands. "I didn’t mean it unkindly. I was merely stating a fact."  


Perhaps her papa is a little strange. But Remy seems quite strange too. Cosette thinks they would get along (although he would probably frown upon her behaviour, talking to strange boys in the garden).  


"Would you like to come inside for some lunch?"  


Remy frowns. "I don't want your charity."  


Cosette has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. "It is not _charity_ , but _politeness_. I am going to have lunch, and it would be rude of me not to ask if you would like to join me."  


He considers this for a moment. "All right." He stands and wipes his hands on his pants ( _that will do no good_ , she thinks, _his pants look even dirtier_ ).  


"You know, you haven’t told me your name yet. Or should I persist in calling you mademoiselle?" His smile is teasing.  


"My name is Cosette.” She extends a hand.

 

He laughs a little at the formality of the gesture, but shakes it all the same. "A pleasure to meet you, Cosette. Now, what are we having for lunch?"

 

***

 

They continue in a similar fashion for some weeks. Cosette waits for her father to leave the house, and then she goes to the garden where Remy continues his chores. The garden is weeded, the roof of the shed is patched, the drains cleared, and the windows cleaned.

  
Sometimes Cosette brings out her books, to practise her studies. She sees Remy looking sometimes, quick and curious glances, but he never says anything. One afternoon, after he has finished painting the window shutters, he tells her that he never learned to read. His voice when he asks if she could teach him is almost painful, like he expects her to scorn him.  


"I did not know how until my papa taught me," Cosette says gently, "how does anyone do anything if they are not taught to do so first?"  


They spend their lunches after that hunched over books. Sometimes she reads to him while he works. He likes the Greek philosophers best, which forces her to read them all the way through, when she would usually have skipped over passages.  


Summer fades into Autumn. One morning she discovers Remy, shivering on their doorstep. She insists that he sleep inside after that.  


"It is not charity," she says, when he tries to refuse, "it is _politeness_ , don't you remember?"  


Cold weather brings back her old nightmares (two looming figures push her about, the woods stretch dark and endless, and she will never find her way out, where is her papa?), and she pushes herself out of bed. Her papa says that warm milk is supposed to help.  


Remy is curled up by the dying fire, and he looks up when she enters. "Cosette? What time is it?"  


"Sorry, go back to sleep. I was just getting something to drink."  


He sits up, drawing his knees to his chest. "Bad dreams?" She nods. "I can tell you a story, if you'd like. A good story is a cure for bad dreams, or so my grandmother used to say."  


She sits next to him, drawing the blanket around both their shoulders. Remy is a good story teller - lady knights battle dragons and armies, soldiers bring flowers back from battle, and everybody comes back from their adventures safe. This, too, becomes something of a habit for them.  


And after they run out of stories, they trade secrets.  


Cosette tells him that he papa did not come to her until she was eight years old, that Cosette is not her true name.  


("What does a name on paper matter anyway? A rose by any other name, after all."  


Cosette smiles at him, shy. "You do not wish to know my paper name then?"  


"I didn't say that", says Remy quickly.  


"It is Euphrasie. I saw it in a letter once in my papa's study."  


"Euphrasie," Remy tests the name aloud, "I believe it shall be my secret nickname for you."  


"But it is my true name!"  


"And that is why it will be such a secret!"  


Cosette laughs.)  


Remy tells her that he likes to draw and paint, and someday he would like to go to Paris, to paint the women there, and the men.  


(This is also how Cosette knows that he leans towards both men and women. Remy seems surprised when she says that she already knew this secret.  


"When we watch people through the window, our eyes follow the same men. It is good to know you have good taste."  


Remy's relieved smile lights up his whole face.)

 

***

 

After the winter, Cosette and her papa have to leave (they always have to leave), Remy gives her some small sketches as parting gifts - one of the garden, and one of herself and Valjean, signed with his mark, an 'R'.  


"We will come back next summer, papa promised!" says Cosette, wrapping her small arms around him.  


Remy smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And I will see you then, little Euphrasie."  


Cosette goes up on tiptoes. "I am not so little now! I am almost as tall as you!"  


Remy draws back, still a little taller than Cosette. He raises himself onto his own tiptoes. "Never!"  


"That is cheating!" Remy laughs, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Cosette reaches for his hand, clasps it tight. "We will come back, Remy. We _will_."  


Remy looks so sad as he looks down at their hands, and Cosette doesn't know what to do. She has nothing to give in return for the sketches, no tokens of her own. But perhaps -  


"Wait here," she says, and runs upstairs. Her father has not yet packed away all the books, and she grabs one at random ( _Defence of Palamedes_ says the cover in faded gold lettering).  


"In exchange for the sketches. I do not," and she swallows, because tears will do her no good, "I do not want charity."  


"It's not charity, it's politeness," says Remy, before pulling her into a hug.  


She can hear papa calling her, he wants her to pack away her things now, quickly, they must leave today. "I have to go."  


"I'll see you next summer. I'm sure I can survive on one book until then."  


"Yes," Cosette wipes her eyes, "yes, next summer. Goodbye Remy."  


"Goodbye, Euphrasie. Travel safe."  
  


(They do come back, although it is a full summer later than promised. Remy is already gone.)

 


	2. A Father To Us All

Valjean awakes in a sweat. He doesn't often get roused in the night by memories of Toulon with any great frequency anymore since he adopted Cosette, but such dreams did still happen. He had seen someone stopped and searched by the police in the marketplace that day, and it had brought back memories of his own chains.

 

_Perhaps something from the kitchen would settle my nerves,_ he thinks. He often advises Cosette as much.

 

Candlelight flickers in the kitchen as he enters. Cosette is asleep in front of the fireplace, wrapped in her shawl. A young boy, whom Valjean recognises as the one he often pays to do chores around the garden, sits next to her, stroking her hair lightly as she uses his leg for a pillow.

 

“What –“

 

The boy shushes him. “She’s only just gone to sleep.”  He pales and adds in a low voice, “I didn't mean any offence Monsieur Jean, she said it would be all right if I slept here, but I can leave, I don't want to cause any trouble, I –“

 

Valjean holds up a hand for silence. Keeping his voice low as well, he says “I understand why you are here. The nights are colder now and if you have nowhere else to go you may stay, of course. But what is Cosette doing out of bed at this hour?”

 

The boy looks down at Cosette, still asleep. “She said she gets nightmares, monsieur. She won't say what they're about, but I think they trouble her in her waking hours. I've been telling her stories to try to push them from her mind. My… my grandmother, God rest her soul, she said that a good story was a cure for a bad dream.”

 

Valjean nods. “I see.”

 

The boy bites his lip, looking down at Cosette. “I think I'll wake her if I move now. But I won't come again, I promise. I don’t want any trouble.”

_What has happened to this child_ , thinks Valjean, _that he thinks I would punish him for providing comfort?_

 

“How long have you been telling her stories for?”

 

“Just this month gone, monsieur. I – she found me asleep on the doorstep, and she insisted, I swear I would never have –“

 

“It is fine.” Although he would certainly be having words to Cosette about letting strangers into the house. “What is your name, boy?”  
  
  
“Remy, monsieur.”

 

“You have been working for me for a few months now, have you not?”

  
“Yes monsieur, since midsummer.”

 

Cosette had seemed more cheerful these past few months. And he could not fault Cosette for her charity.

 

“Your work has been quite good, Remy. Have you any training?”

 

Remy seems thrown by this new line of questioning for a moment. “No monsieur, none at all. I’d like to think I'm a quick study though.”

 

“Indeed. Well, it would be foolish of me to fire so good a worker.”

 

“Monsieur?”

 

“You have been a good friend to my daughter in her needs. It would please me to have you continue to work for me, for as long as we are here in town.”

 

“I, well, yes, Monsieur Jean, I would like that, very much so. Thank you.”

 

Valjean pauses in the doorway. “There are some loose shelves in my study that need to be fixed, if you would not mind working inside tomorrow.”

 

“Not at all monsieur, I’ll do it first thing!”

 

Valjean waves him off. “They are not urgent. You should keep Cosette company over breakfast tomorrow. I am always distracted by the morning paper, and I know she often wishes for someone to talk to.”

 

“I…” Remy looks at a loss for words, “I will monsieur, thank you.”

 

“I will see you in the morning, Remy.”

 

***

 

When they leave in the summer, Valjean finds that he misses Remy’s conversations over breakfast. His view of the world tends towards the pessimistic at times, but on the whole he is cheerful, talking with Cosette about the day’s work. Valjean knows that he is not the best conversationalist, and it is good for Cosette to have a companion.

 

When she is not engaged in her lessons, he often finds her trailing after Remy, watching him at his tasks. Sometimes when he walks by them, Cosette is reading to him, and other times he catches them halfway through some literary argument. She seems happier than he has ever known her. Remy slowly relaxes around him too, apparently trusting that Valjean won’t throw him out for some minor infraction.

 

When he tells Cosette they will not be returning until the summer after next (he has heard reports of Javert moving through the area), she does not leave her room for two full days, and barely speaks to him for a week. He assures her that Remy can take care of himself.

 

They return, but Remy is nowhere to be found.

 

No one seems to remember a young man with dark, curling hair. Valjean feels as though he has spoken to every person in town when he finally finds someone who has a vague memory of such a boy.

 

“He came asking for work last winter but we had no places to spare, so I told him to move on,” says the Inn’s stable hand, “I don’t know where he went after that.”

 

“Did you find him, papa?” 

 

Cosette’s face, full of hope – how could he tell her that Remy was gone?

 

“I asked many people, and was told me that he’d gone away.”

 

Her face fell. “Gone away?”

 

“Yes, I am so sorry my dear, I don’t know where.”

 

“Yes, I see. I will be in my room papa.”

 

This time, when she comes out after three days, she looks as though she has spent the time weeping. He can offer no true comfort. He knows the only true comfort she could find would be Remy walking through her door.

 

They move again a few months later, and they do not speak of Remy again.

 


	3. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in an au where the revolution was successful, and everybody lived (because the alternative was too sad for me to even want to think about).

 

Marius's bride to be was as delightful as he'd described. They'd finally managed to gather as a group at the Musain to meet her before the big day, and it had taken her all of five minutes to charm them. Even Enjolras could see her appeal, as she spoke passionately about the possibility of setting up free schooling with Combeferre. Bahorel, Feuilly, and Grantaire were late, their lunch meeting with a dignitary from Italy running overtime (as usual). Jehan was entertaining her with some of his poetry as the three entered.

 

"Finally!" says Marius, "I was beginning to think you were avoiding us!"

 

Bahorel laughs. "And miss seeing a beam of sunlight made flesh? I think not! Mademoiselle, it is a pleasure to meet you, Marius speaks of little else!"

 

Cosette had fallen still, one hand going to her mouth as her eyes widened in shock. Grantaire, too, had frozen, one hand still tangled in his scarf.

 

"Euphrasie?"

 

Cosette took a step forward. "Remy?"

 

And then they were both moving forward, steps faster across the Café, Cosette flinging herself in Grantaire's arms.

 

"Euphrasie, Euphrasie, Euphrasie," Grantaire murmurs into her hair.

 

Cosette pulls back a little, to put one palm against Grantaire's stubbled cheek for a moment. "I thought you had died. We came back, in the summer, and you weren't there, and papa said you had gone away. I thought ... I thought it was his way of saying you had died."

 

Grantaire huffs a laugh. "I hitched a ride into Paris a few weeks after you left. Seeking greatness and the like."

 

"Paris?" Cosette smiles, "So you became a great artist after all!"

 

Grantaire's smile holds a bitter edge. "No, just a great drunk."

 

Marius makes a strangled noise. If the scene before them hadn't been so bizarre it would have been amusing. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but how on Earth are the two of you acquainted?"

 

Grantaire's smile loses some of its bitterness, turning almost cheeky. "I used to sleep in her shed."

 

Cosette laughs, and lets go of Grantaire's arm at last (Marius visibly relaxes). "He used to run errands for my father. But I had no idea you were a friend of my fiancé."

 

"I had no idea I was either. Although now Marius's rapturous speeches about his bride make sense. Only you could produce such pure delight."

 

Cosette's smile grows even brighter. "I see you have not gotten any less charming with the passage of time. And there has been so much time that has passed! I am afraid I must monopolise you this evening. And you _must_ come and visit us as soon as you possibly can! Papa would love to see you, I'm sure."

 

"I would like to see him as well. Oh!” Grantaire frowns, “Marius said that he had been ill. Is he -"

 

"He has recovered well enough, now. But I am sure if you came to dinner tomorrow it would help immensely,” says Cosette, smiling up at him.

 

"I would love to, as long as there is room for me at your table."

 

"Oh, the Pontmercy family have a rather enormous table, I don't think that will be a problem."

 

Grantaire's eyes flick to Marius, and then back to Cosette. He waggles his eyebrows. "Enormous?"

 

Cosette blushes, but her grin is wicked. "Very."

 

Marius turns bright red. Coufeyrac laughs.

***

 

Back in the carriage and away from the standards of propriety, Cosette lets her body relax fully against Marius. It had been shocking to Marius the first time she had done so, but Cosette is an incredibly tactile person, bestowing her affection with small touches. He has come to learn to be one as well, with her.

 

"It seems so strange," she says quietly.

 

Marius runs a hand down her arm, holding her close. "What does?"

 

"Remy - Grantaire. To see him after all this time. For us to have been in the same city all this time, and not even know it. It seems like a miracle. Another miracle brought to me by you." She runs a hand absent-mindedly over his lapels.

 

Marius smiles into her hair.

 


	4. Reunion Dinner

 

When Grantaire appears at their door the next night, Cosette rushes to the door as soon as she hears his voice. “Remy, I am so glad you could make it! Dinner is almost served.”

 

Marius and Valjean stand as Grantaire and Cosette enter, arm in arm. Marius has never seen Grantaire looking, for want of a better word, so well put together. His clothes look freshly laundered, his hair in combed neatly into place, and he seems quite sober (although, that being said, Marius has seen Grantaire give some quite impressive speeches while _completely_ drunk, so perhaps sobriety does not really matter for him).

 

Instead of sitting when Cosette indicates his chair, he goes to where Valjean is seated. He pulls a ragged-looking book from his pocket. “Monsieur Valjean, I borrowed this book quite a while ago. I am sorry that it took me so long to return it.” Grantaire looks nervous, and the hand holding the book shakes slightly.

 

Valjean regards him carefully, and then smiles (only a small one, but Valjean’s smiles are a rare and noteworthy occurrence). He takes the book, and shakes Grantaire’s still outstretched hand. “It is fine, Remy. I hope you enjoyed it.”

 

Grantaire sits, and the meal is relatively relaxed. They talk about Marius’s work with the council, Cosette updates them on how the wedding plans are going (now that they have _finally_ managed to set a date, things are running a lot smoother), and Grantaire tells them about his painting. Marius feels slightly guilty for knowing so little about it, but then Grantaire so rarely spoke about his studies.

 

“Monsieur Valjean, I am surprised that there are no portraits of you. A man of your standing should have one,” says Grantaire.

 

Cosette beams. “Perhaps you should paint one Remy.”

 

Grantaire and Cosette share a look over the table.

 

“Perhaps I should,” says Grantaire, “what do you think monsieur?”

 

“Well, I –“, Valjean looks from Cosette to Grantaire, and sighs. “I suppose if you two insist.”

 

Cosette smiles. “I do! And I think you should start as soon as possible, don’t you?”

 

Grantaire smiles back at her. It holds none of the bitterness Marius usually associates with him, and he looks far younger with it. “Oh, I certainly agree. How is tomorrow afternoon?”

 

“Perfect!” says Cosette

 

Valjean looks as if he would disagree, but Marius already knows that there is nothing he would not do for Cosette, even if Cosette were not a force in her own right.

 

***

 

Grantaire comes to the house the next afternoon, just after they finish their luncheon. Usually Marius’ work keeps him away from the house until dark, but Cosette had insisted he be at home to greet Grantaire.

 

After Valjean and Grantaire set up in the study (which Grantaire claims has the best lighting for his work), Cosette asks if he would like to take a turn around the grounds with him. Usually Valjean accompanies them, walking two or three steps behind, but Marius doesn’t really think anything of it. It will be a nice break from his usual afternoon’s work.

 

They talk of little matters, until they turn a corner behind a small grove of trees, out of sight of the house, and she pushes Marius against the smooth trunk of an oak, and presses the line of her body against his.

 

“Cosette, what –“

 

She shushes him, putting one finger against his lips. “I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

 

And then she replaces the finger with her lips, and Marius completely loses track of what he was about to say.

 

***

 

A few hours later, they enter the house as Grantaire is leaving.

 

“So soon?” says Cosette. Her face is still a little flushed, but other than that she seems completely calm.

 

Grantaire grins, and Marius wishes for even a small percentage of Cosette’s calm. “Rome was not built in a day, my dear. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow to work on it further, if that is all right?”

 

“Yes, of course,” says Cosette, “come back as often as you like. Papa’s portrait is very special, and I’m sure it will need a _lot_ of work to complete.”

 

“Oh, most definitely,” says Grantaire, “he’s still in the study, reading, I think.” He laughs a little as she turns to go. “Wait, wait!” Grantaire plucks a small twig from her hair. Cosette blushes a little, but she laughs. “I hope you had a good walk together,” says Grantaire, grinning wickedly.

 

“Yes,” she says, voice overly prim but smiling, “thank you.”

 

Marius is left to show out Grantaire, as Cosette goes to check on Valjean.

 

Marius hopes his blush is not too evident. “Uh, Grantaire, I should say thank you, I suppose, for this afternoon. It was good to spend some time alone with Cosette, to talk to her, I mean, when we were walking.”

 

“I cannot take your thanks entirely for myself; my portrait of Valjean was entirely your fiancée’s idea.” Grantaire holds out a hand.

 

Marius clasps it, but instead of shaking it Grantaire pulls Marius forward. His usually jovial face is completely serious, and Marius has never been more aware that Grantaire is taller and more heavily built than himself.

 

“If she ever dislikes any of the walks you might take, I _will_ know, and I will ensure that you will never take a walk with anyone _ever again_. Am I making myself clear?”

 

“I would never hurt Cosette! It would be to hurt my own soul!”

 

Grantaire examines Marius’ face for a long moment before releasing him. “That is good to know.” Then, his face is smiling once more. “I shall see you the day after next then. Good evening.”

 


	5. Wedding Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marius not being able to dance is based on the fact that Eddie Redmayne cannot dance (which is why we get the INCREDIBLY CUTE spinning thing in the movie).

  
  
Cosette thinks she has never been happier, looking across at Marius in front of all of their friends, declaring that she will always be his, hearing him say the same in return. She can feel her papa’s warm gaze at her back, finding happiness in her happiness, and she feels as though she might burst.

 

The reception is packed with unfamiliar people. Marius’ grandfather had insisted upon certain people being present. Cosette counts herself lucky that she and Marius had been able to keep them out of the ceremony – she was sure they were perfectly nice people, but a small ceremony was something on which she would not compromise.

 

It takes her a few moments to find Grantaire in the crowd of unfamiliar faces. He waves at her, laughing at something Jehan says to him. She waves back, not caring at all that she draws odd stares from some society matrons.

 

They move together slowly around the dance floor, their first dance as husband and wife. Marius smiles at her, and it’s like the sun.

 

Marius had told her the day before, absolutely panicked, that he could not dance. Grantaire had promised to teach Marius at least one dance before the wedding. She had watched Marius practising the steps in his room that night, arms around an invisible dancing partner. Grantaire had come back in the morning for an emergency practise session, and had pronounced Marius an adequate dancer.

 

“Watch he doesn’t step on your toes though, Euphrasie,” Grantaire had said, adjusting her veil.

 

They dance together for three songs (Marius does not step on her toes even once, although there were a few near misses) before her papa comes over to them. “May I cut in, Monsieur Pontmercy?”

 

“Of course,” Marius and Cosette say in unison.

 

Cosette laughs.

 

She stands on her papa’s shoes, like she did when she was a child. When the song had ends, Grantaire approaches them, and bowing. “May I have this dance Madame Pontmercy?”

 

Cosette pretends to think on it a moment. “My dance card is very full, but I think I can find a place or you.”

 

***

 

Valjean smiles at her as he moves to the side of the room to sit. He finds a place next to one of Marius’ friends, Enjolras. Enjolras’ eyes are fixed on Grantaire and Cosette as they move around the dance floor. Valjean remembers Cosette teaching Grantaire to dance. It seems so very long ago now.

 

“He is remarkably sober tonight,” says Enjolras.

 

Valjean frowns. “Excuse me?”

 

Enjolras looks surprised, and turns. “Oh, I am sorry. I mistook you for someone else.”

 

“Enjolras, isn’t it?” Enjolras nods. “I am surprised you would say such a thing of Grantaire, when he has scarcely anything but praise for you.”

 

Enjolras raises his eyebrows. “Grantaire, praise me? I think you are mistaken monsieur.”

 

Valjean’s frown deepens. “Just yesterday he described you as a fine leader of men.”

 

“I have never heard him describe me as such.”

 

“Perhaps he wishes to avoid a conversation such as this, if you would really be so disbelieving of his good opinion.” Valjean looks at Enjolras consideringly. “There is no shame in revising one’s opinion of another.” Valjean turns back to where Grantaire and Cosette spin around, laughing. “He is a good man. Perhaps you would do well, sir, to revisit your own opinion of him.”

 

The two sit in silence, until Musichetta asks Valjean to dance for the next song.

 

***

 

Cosette dances with each of Marius’ friends, Enjolras last of all. “It is good that we should have this dance, Monsieur Enjolras.”

 

“And why is that?” His movements are a lot like his words, fast and efficient. He is, she notes, very well-versed in the steps.

 

“I wished to speak with you privately about Grantaire, but I have not been able to catch you alone. I thought perhaps this would be this best way to do so.”

 

“My work often keeps me too busy to call on people of social reasons.” He frowns. “But why should you wish to speak to _me_ about Grantaire?”

 

This was, perhaps, going to be more difficult than she had thought. Cosette considers her words carefully.  “I wished to ask your opinion of him. He thinks very highly of you.”

 

“You are not the first person to say so tonight, but I am doubtful.” Enjolras sighs. “He does not have much faith in our causes, even now. I often wonder why he continues to show up to Les Amis meetings at all, except perhaps to remind me that there is someone in the world who believes me to be a fool.”

 

“That is not it at all! Since we have found each other again, he has told me often that you are someone that he truly believes in,” says Cosette, “He may not agree with your viewpoints, but he most certainly does not think you are a fool.”

 

Enjolras’ smile is slightly bitter. “If he believes in me so strongly, then why has he never said so?”

 

Grantaire has often joked to her about Marius after he had first seen her, how Marius had made declarations of love without knowing so much as her name.

_Better that_ , she thinks, _than wondering if he even likes me at all._

 

“Perhaps that is a question better posed to him, monsieur.” The song ends, and Enjolras bows to her. “Thank you for the dance, Enjolras.”

 

Marius comes forward again, having just finished his own dance with Courfeyrac. As they turn slowly about the room, she sees Enjolras approach Grantaire. She wishes Grantaire luck with his words tonight.

 

* * *


	6. Advice

 

Cosette is woken, _on the first morning of her honeymoon_ , to loud banging at the door. Thankfully it’s not the bedchamber but she hurries out all the same, pulling on Marius’ dressing gown. Enjolras is trying to push past a serving girl.

 

“Monsieur Enjolras!” says Cosette, “is something the matter?”

 

“You know this man Madame?” says the serving girl (her name is Eloise, and she has two sisters, both of whom also work in the household to support their mother – Cosette makes a point to know these things).

 

“Yes, Marius works with him in the government. Although Marius is _supposed_ to be having a few days off,” says Cosette.

 

“I did not come to speak to Marius,” says Enjolras, “I needed to speak to you.”

 

Cosette smiles. “Ah. Am I right in assuming that this is about Grantaire?”

 

“I, well, yes,” says Enjolras. He seems surprised.

 

“Eloise, could you give us a moment please?” says Cosette.

 

Eloise looks curious, but that is probably more out of concern for Grantaire than for potential gossip. Grantaire is on good terms with most of the serving staff. “Will Monsieur Enjolras be joining you for breakfast?”

 

“Oh no, I’m sure after this he will have business to attend to elsewhere,” says Cosette.

 

Eloise drops a quick curtsey. “Very well Madame.”

 

Eloise disappears, shutting the door behind her. Enjolras seems unwilling to speak first, fidgeting as he stands in front of Cosette. She’s surprised to see that he is still in the suit he was wearing at the wedding, hair and clothes in disarray. Marius told her Enjolras often worked through the night and therefore would forget to change, but she had thought he would have at least taken the night off after the wedding ceremony.

 

Cosette sighs, running a hand through her tangled hair. “I am quite tired Enjolras, and I would very much prefer to be back in bed with my husband as soon as possible, so I will be blunt: Grantaire spoke to you last night, and told you something that made you unsure of your previous opinions of him. You have come here, because you believe that despite our time apart I would know Grantaire’s feelings well, and you would like reassurance that what he said is true. Correct?”

 

Enjolras looks quite lost for words. “That is, he – what I mean to say is –“

 

“That he told you he is terribly in love with you?” says Cosette.

 

Enjorlas’ jaw drops. “How did you know?”

 

“My dear Monsieur Enjolras, I think it would be quite impossible not to know,” says Cosette, “it is in every look that he directs towards you.”

 

“I – really?”

 

“I certainly hope that you reacted more favourably when Grantaire told you.” Enjolras is silent, and Cosette begins to feel a flicker of annoyance. “Please, tell me you at least said _something_.”

 

Enjolras hesitates, clearly choosing his words carefully. “I … may have mistaken his confession for a joke. In my defence, he is usually so quick to make light of me, and I assumed he was doing the same in this case. He can be just so _frustrating_ at times, and I –“

 

Cosette holds up a hand, interrupting. “Enjolras, this is the morning after my wedding. I would sincerely love to return to bed to resume my honeymoon. Please reach the point as fast as possible.”

 

“I,” Enjolras looks to the floor, “we got into a slight argument. I did not even truly consider the possibility that Grantaire was not joking until after we had parted ways.”

 

“ _Enjolras –_ “ begins Cosette.

 

This time it is Enjolras who interrupts her. “I have tried to find him to discuss things! He was not in his apartment, or the Café, and I could not think of anywhere else to look for him.”

 

“I see,” says Cosette. “In this discussion you wish to have with Grantaire, would you be also be discussing your own feelings?”

 

“I would,” says Enjolras.

 

“And your own feelings would be …?” says Cosette.

 

Enjolras fidgets again, hands twitching. “The same as his own. Perhaps for not as long as his own have been present for me, but I have realised that mine have been present for longer than I have been aware of them. I would very much like your help to find Grantaire to discuss this with him.”

 

Cosette nods, moving to ring the serving bell. She waits a few moments for someone to appear, ignoring Enjolras’ curious gaze.

 

Eloise smiles at her upon opening the door. “Madame?”

 

“Eloise, I need you to get one of the messenger boys. Tell them to go to all the places Grantaire usually frequents, and be sure to check his art studio first. When they have found him, they are to tell him to return to his apartment immediately, and then they are to return here and inform Monsieur Enjolras,” says Cosette.

 

“Yes Madame,” says Eloise. She looks worried, and Cosette thinks of her brother’s last visit here, helping Eloise carry serving dishes down the stairs.

 

“I’m sure Grantaire is perfectly fine,” says Cosette, “Monsieur Enjolras is just having a slight difficulty locating him for the moment, and this is far simpler than having him run all over the city.”

 

Eloise casts an eye over Enjolras, mouth quirking upwards at his frazzled appearance. “I suppose it would be Madame. I’ll have someone come and fetch Monsieur Enjolras as soon as the messenger returns. Will he be waiting here?”

 

Cosette feels her mouth twitch, supressing a smile of her own. “No, I do not think so. The drawing room would probably be best.” Eloise drops a curtsey again, and Cosette waits until she hears the footsteps fade before she moves closer to Enjolras. He looks a little startled as she tugs at his shirt, straightening it. “Monsieur Enjolras, I know we have not been in each other’s acquaintance very long, but you strike me as someone who is able to make a quick assessment. Do I seem to you to be the kind of person who follows through on her promises?”

 

“Yes, I would say so.”

 

“I can assure you that I am. Grantaire is very dear to me, and our long time apart has not lessened his position in my heart. So I want you to know that if you do not find Grantaire and fix this situation _today_ , I promise I will make your life both politically difficult and physically painful. Am I making myself clear?” Cosette gives an extra-hard tug on his jacket to emphasise her last sentence.

 

Enjolras nods.

 

Cosette smiles, releasing his jacket. “I’m glad we’ve reached this understanding. And now I believe I shall return to my bed. The messenger should not take long to find Grantaire, they know him well.”

 

“Cosette,” Enjolras’ voice makes her turn back from the bedchamber door. “Thank you for your help in this matter, and for your discretion.”

 

“I do not need your thanks, I only need for you to tell Grantaire what you have told me,” says Cosette.

 

“I will,” says Enjolras.

 

“See that you do,” says Cosette closing the door firmly.

 

She leaves Marius’ dressing gown draped on a chair, climbing back into bed carefully so as to not disturb Marius.

 

Marius’ eyelids flutter slightly. “Cosette?”

 

She shushes him, moving closer to him and closing her own eyes. “Just a small family problem that needed help to resolve itself, go back to sleep.”

 

His eyes slide closed, and he turns his face into her shoulder. She can feel him smile against her skin. “Okay."


	7. Light

 

The next person to interrupt her honeymoon is Grantaire, although his entrance is not nearly as dramatic as Enjolras’ had been. Marius and Cosette are taking a late lunch in the gardens, when Grantaire rounds the corner of the house. His clothing is a little rumpled and there are a few leaves in his hair, leading Cosette to suspect that he has jumped over the wall rather than entering through the house. It reminds her of when they were children together, and makes her laugh.

 

Smiling, she rises to greet him. “Grantaire! You do realise that Marius and I are currently indisposed?”

 

He hugs her tight, grinning as he swings her around a little, making her laugh again. “Dearest Cosette, light of my life!”

 

“Not the only light, I should hope,” she says, as he sets her feet on the ground again.

 

“No, not the only light,” says Grantaire, still smiling.

 

“You look as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders,” says Cosette.

 

“If it has, I believe I have you to thank for it, at least in part,” says Grantaire.

 

Cosette waves a hand. “I merely directed him to speak to you and told him to present himself honestly.”

 

“Well, then I thank you for your direction,” says Grantaire.

 

“You should stay and dine with us, since you are already here,” says Cosette.

 

“Oh no, I couldn’t impose,” says Grantaire, “besides, I already have a lunch date with the light in question I must get myself to. I only wanted to stop by and give you my thanks.”

 

Cosette slips her arms around him, leaning her head against his chest. “I need no thanks, but it is good to know that you are happy.”

 

Grantaire drops a kiss onto the top of her head. “I am. As are you, I hope.”

 

“Very,” says Cosette.

 

Grantaire releases her. “Then we are a lucky two indeed.” He squeezes her hand and waves to Marius, disappearing back the way he’d come.

 

Marius waves back, looking curiously at Cosette. “Is this related to the family troubles from yesterday morning?”

 

“Yes, but they have resolved themselves now,” says Cosette, “I don’t think we will have any more troubles like that one for quite a while.”

 


	8. Family

 

Cosette waits by the window for Marius to return home. It’s his first day away from her side since their honeymoon had ended. She feels a little silly for missing him; after all they have the rest of their lives together. Still, the house seems bigger without him somehow, especially as it grows darker. Marius had told her he would probably have to stay late to catch up on what had happened during their honeymoon, and she was holding off dinner until his arrival.

 

She can see a carriage begin down the driveway, which gives her enough time to make it to the front door to greet it as it pulls up. Inside, Marius is in deep conversation with Enjolras and Grantaire. Once he notices they’ve stopped, he leaps out of the carriage to greet her. It would seem he has missed her as much as she has missed him, taking her in his arms as soon as her can reach her. Grantaire wolf-whistles them, and Enjolras quietly admonishes him, which causes Grantaire to laugh.

 

She turns so that she is facing the carriage, leaning back into Marius’ embrace. “It’s good to see you both. I trust you had a productive day?”

 

Grantaire smiles, half-leaning out of the carriage door. “As productive as the government ever is. We won’t keep you two though.”

 

“I was hoping I could borrow you for a moment? I need your artist’s eye for the lighting in the garden,” says Cosette.

 

“But of course,” says Grantaire, stepping out of the carriage.

 

“And then of course you should both stay for dinner,” Cosette continues smoothly.

 

Enjolras frowns. “I don’t want to impose.”

 

“Nonsense!” says Cosette brightly, “any friend of Grantaire and Marius would never be an imposition.”

 

Grantaire’s smile widens. “I suppose you could say it’s more like politeness?”

 

Cosette laughs. “Exactly. I’ll let the staff know to set the table for four places tonight and then you can accompany me to the garden.”

 

When she returns Marius and Enjolras have picked the thread of their discussion back up, and she and Grantaire slip from the room almost without their notice. The garden is lit with a few lanterns, but Cosette would like there to be more. They walk arm in arm through the garden, discussing the area Cosette wants to renovate for entertaining. If she is to hold charity events outdoors, there is much to be done first.

 

Grantaire’s advice is, of course, the secondary reason to her pulling him away from the others. She stops them before they return to the house, sitting down on a small bench. The stars are coming out, and she points out a few of the constellations. Grantaire tells her a few of the more bawdy stories behind them that he’s heard in his travels, and she laughs into his shoulder. They sit together in silence for a few moments after their laughter subsides, Grantaire’s arm around her to warm her from the cool night air.

 

“I'm glad to see you so happy,” says Grantaire, “I have never met someone so deserving of it.”

 

Cosette smiles. “How strange. I was just thinking the same of you.”

 

They sit together quietly until Eloise fetches them for dinner, sharing warmth as they look at the stars.

 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is always loved: fangirl-squee.tumblr.com/ask

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [This feeling like my life's begun at last](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4589223) by [Atanvarnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atanvarnie/pseuds/Atanvarnie)




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